


Besides, the Dollar is Down....

by Neveryawn (Lamora)



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Fluff, Glasses, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamora/pseuds/Neveryawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer gets glasses. He doesn't like them. Brendon does. A lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Besides, the Dollar is Down....

**Author's Note:**

> For Ellie.
> 
> Also, because I don't have glasses, I'm not sure how the whole going-to-the-doctor-to-get-a-pair-of-glasses thing actually works. Um. So this might not be very accurate in that way. But. It shouldn't really matter, I guess.

“I’ll have the…ahh…um…”  
  
Spencer squinted at the infuriatingly small text of the plastic menu, holding the phone against his ear. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d ordered from the takeout place, either, they’d just rearranged their damn menu layout again and he couldn’t read the small pronunciation print anymore.  
  
“Hello?” The voice from the other end of the line was beginning to sound annoyed.  
  
“Yeah, sorry, hold on—“ Spencer shoved the menu and the phone into the lap of a rather displeased Brendon, who had been dozing with his legs cast carelessly over Spencer’s hips as they watched Breaking Bad reruns. “Order for us,” Spencer told him sternly as Brendon opened his mouth to complain.  
  
Brendon rolled his eyes, sitting up and sliding on the black glasses that had been sitting on the coffee table. With nothing more than a quick glance at the menu, he rattled off their order, apologized for Spencer’s difficulties with reading, yelped into the receiver as Spencer flicked him in the ear, and quickly hung up.  
  
“What—“ Brendon began, but Spencer had already stood up, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair.  
  
“I’m just…I’m gonna…” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.  
  
“Hey. Spence,” Brendon was on his feet in a heartbeat, turning Spencer and grabbing him firmly by the shoulders. Of course he would notice something was off. “You okay?”  
  
Spencer blinked, trying desperately to avert Brendon’s concern. This was nothing, nothing was actually wrong, why was Spencer suddenly so nervous? “What? Oh, no, it’s okay, I’m just…” he shrugged. “Tired, I guess.”  
  
Brendon was obviously still concerned. Spencer grinned in spite of himself as he felt the familiar rush of fondness flood through his body. He grabbed Brendon’s shoulders, leaning in for a quick kiss.  
  
“Seriously. It’s fine.” Spencer let his arms drop, stepping away towards the bathroom.  
  
“I’ll get the food when it’s ready,” Brendon called after him.  
  
\--  
  
Spencer shut the door and locked it, turning to the mirror. He ran cold water in the sink and splashed some on his face. What the hell was going on?  
  
He looked at himself in the mirror, peering closely at his reflection several inches away. Was he blurrier than before? Sure, maybe some of the freckles on his nose were running together and less defined than the last time he’d really looked at them, and…  
  
Shit. Wait, what?  
  
He experimentally leaned back from the mirror, careful to watch his footing so he didn’t fall too far backwards. Maybe, just maybe, his face became slightly clearer as he leaned back. Maybe.  
  
He let out a heavy sigh. None of the people in his family had any vision problems.  
  
But.  
  
Jackie had gotten a pair of glasses two years previously. He might need them, too.  
  
His mind racing, Spencer grabbed the tube of toothpaste sitting on the counter to the left of the sink. Squinting, he brought the label closer and farther away.  
  
Weird. He was definitely farsighted. Fuck.  
  
Just to be sure, he opened the bathroom door and stuck his head out. “Brendon!”  
  
Brendon was there barely ten seconds later humming something that sounded suspiciously like the guitar solo from The Takeover, The Break’s Over. Spencer barely repressed the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
“Can you read this?”  
  
Brendon looked at him, careful and expressionless, as if he knew exactly why Spencer was asking. He was still wearing his glasses from before.  
  
“Spence,” he said softly.  
  
“Hey. Just,” Spencer flapped a hand at the toothpaste bottle, feeling increasingly silly by the minute. “Can you?”  
  
Brendon slowly read off the list of ingredients from where Spencer held it in front of him.  
  
“Fuck,” said Spencer as Brendon finished. “Fuck.”  
  
\--  
  
They ate takeout in relative silence back on the couch. Brendon was pressed comfortably against Spencer’s side, his head resting on Spencer’s collarbone (“Drop kung pao chicken on my sweatshirt and I will end you,” Spencer had said warningly. Brendon had slurped a noodle obnoxiously in response.)  
  
“So,” Brendon set his now-empty plastic carton back on the table as Spencer followed suit. He leaned back against Spencer, tucking his knees in as well so he could cuddle up close.  
  
“So,” Spencer echoed dryly with an eyebrow raised.  
  
“Eye doctor tomorrow?”  
  
Spencer sighed.  
  
“Hey, grumpy-pants. It’s not the end of the world. I turned out fine,” Brendon nuzzled into Spencer’s neck and Spencer felt himself relaxing out of habit.  
  
“Yeah, I know.” Spencer mumbled as he leaned back and closed his eyes, letting his fingers fall into Brendon’s hair. Brendon practically purred, the dork.  
  
“So. Eye doctor. Tomorrow.” Brendon’s tone of voice was relaxed and loose while still managing not to invite argument. Spencer needed to learn how to do that, dammit.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer grumbled. Something in his chest tightened as he remembered way back in middle school when Ryan bought glasses and wore them to school for the first time and Spencer had found him several hours later being shoved repeatedly into lockers by a group of smirking eighth graders. Spencer was pretty tall for his age at the time, so he was able to shoulder in and hustle Ryan out before things got too serious. Ryan pretty much always wore contacts after that day.  
  
Spencer shifted on the couch. This is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous, he thought to himself.  
  
“What?”  
  
Spencer blinked as he realized he’d said it out loud. “Uh…I was just thinking. About. Y’know. Um. Guitars and stuff.”  
  
Spencer realized it probably sounded as stupid as it did in his head. Brendon, on the other hand, giggled.  
  
“Dude, did you smoke up while you were in the bathroom or something?”  
  
Spencer let his head fall back to the couch again with a sigh. He was being stupid, but it was a known fact, wasn’t it? Glasses never made anyone more attractive, it usually made them less…except, of course, if your name started with a B and ended with a –rendon. But Brendon was a special case, he looked fucking adorable in glasses if not outright sexy, but Spencer sure as hell wouldn’t…  
  
“Spencer. Speeencer. Earth to Spence. Spence.”  
  
Spencer jolted out of his reverie. “Mm. Yes. Uh. Why don’t I go to the eye doctor’s and get glasses while you take the dogs out? It’ll be, uh, like a surprise.”  
  
Brendon raised an eyebrow. “Alright. You sure?”  
  
Spencer nodded, not looking at Brendon.  
  
Brendon clearly realized there was something else going on, as he quickly darted up and seized Spencer in a languid kiss. “You’re thinking too loudly. You’re gonna wake up the neighbors.”  
  
“Mmph,” Spencer replied eloquently. “’S only 7:30. Don’t think they’ll mind.” Spencer could feel Brendon’s lips start to move again. Not in the mood for any more backtalk, he quickly bit down in the way that he knew made Brendon go soft and pliant.  
  
“Spence,” Brendon mumbled. “Let’s go. Bed.”  
  
Now, more amused than anything else, Spencer was quick to sling Brendon over one shoulder (Brendon would deny this later, but he fucking squealed) and carried him off to the stairs.  
  
\--  
  
“Fuck you,” Spencer mumbled into his pillow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—“  
  
Brendon continued to mercilessly prod Spencer’s bare sides. “Spence. Spence. C’mon. You already did. Your appointment is in, like, half an hour or something. Spence. C’mon.”  
  
Spencer only continued his litany of expletives.  
  
“Spencer James Smith, get up, right the fuck now, or I honest to god drinking all of the coffee I made for you, asshole.”  
  
Spencer mumbled something incoherent, rolling off the other side of the bed and into the bathroom, causing Brendon to jump up and run to the kitchen to actually start making the coffee he lied about.  
  
\--  
  
Spencer actually ended up only being five minutes late, but because he had to go into the bathroom at the clinic to re-button his shirt after Brendon had haphazardly buttoned it two buttons off while they were making out in their front door, he decided to just count it as ten.  
  
The doctor herself was actually nice, running him through a couple of tests before declaring him definitively farsighted. She then gave him a few minutes to go through racks of glasses frames while she filled out his prescription.  
  
As he stared blankly at the large variety, Spencer suddenly wished he’d brought Brendon with him. At least he had experience in picking glasses.  
  
Well, technically, Brendon still had five different pairs sitting at home, including his old red ones that he refused to throw out. So. Maybe he wasn’t the most decisive person ever, either.  
  
Spencer was debating between a pair with round, circular frames, and a pair of the thick black ones that looked so good at Brendon. He regarded them dubiously; he had a completely different facial structure than Brendon, after all, but…  
  
His train of thought trailed off as out of the corner of his eye he saw a pair that he instantly took a liking to. Black and nondescript, they were an understated pair of rectangular frames. He thought he remembered William Beckett wearing a similar design, or something. Whatever. The point was, they were actually pretty alright.  
  
Flushed slightly, he took the pair off the shelf and mumbled something to the doctor, who apparently took pity on him and went to get them fitted with his prescription.  
  
 _Oh god oh god oh god oh god, I’m going to look so stupid…_  
  
\--  
  
“And he’s back!” crowed Brendon as Spencer made his way through the front door of their house. “Sooooo…”  he wiggled his eyes at the ominous black box Spencer currently carried in his right hand. “Did you try them on yet?”  
  
Spencer nodded, his cheeks burning. He’d tentatively slid them on while in the doctor’s office, but hadn’t really checked to see how they looked; he’d mainly been testing to see if the lady had gotten his prescription right. He’d nodded quickly, eager to get them off as fast as possible.  
  
His reluctance seemed to only amuse the doctor. “Now, I’m going to be filling out a request for contacts. They should be delivered to your house within a week, but you should definitely wear these"—she tapped the black frames with her ballpoint pen for emphasis—“While you can.”  
  
Spencer only kept nodding, desperate to leave the office. He filled out the rest of the paperwork, signed up in advance for his following checkup, and left.  
  
And maybe, just maybe, he’d slid them on once he got into the car to take a peek at what they actually looked like. He’d gotten distracted, however, at how amazingly high-definition the rest of the world had become, and contented himself with staring out the window at the nearby trees to count leaves and look at the individual faces of passersby.  
  
He then caught sight of himself in the rear view mirror, turned bright red, and took the damn things off.  
  
“Okay,” Brendon broke the silence, grinning widely. “Well. Now you get to go through what I did ten years ago! Put ‘em on, let’s see.”  
  
Spencer ducked his head, his ears on fire. Fuck, he was such a _moron_ …  
  
“Spence. Hey.” Brendon nudged him gently with his toe. “C’mon, man.” He was still beaming, but his eyes were starting to look concerned. Spencer gritted his teeth and turned around, fumbling with the box. It was probably best for him to get it over with, anyway.  
  
He slid on the frames but didn’t turn around.  
  
“Speeeeeeence…” Brendon edged him around, so their gazes could meet. Dammit. Spencer let his gaze slide away and down to the ground. Why was he so embarrassed oh god Brendon wasn’t going to be able to stop laughing and…  
  
“MMPH—“ Spencer felt himself get slammed against the nearest wall as Brendon practically assaulted him. “Brendon, what the fuck?”  
  
“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer,” was all Brendon could say. The frames awkwardly bumped against Brendon’s cheeks, and Spencer quickly reached up to take them off. Huh. Weird.  
  
Brendon slapped his hands away, hard. Before Spencer could get a word in edgewise—or yelp in pain, because, Christ, that hurt—Brendon was biting at his neck and going lower and lower.  
  
“You can fucking well keep those on while I ride you, Spencer Smith,” Brendon announced between bites.  
  
Well. Maybe, just maybe, these hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
